The Odds
by Julie Poe
Summary: At the end of “The Uncertainty Principle,” Charlie seems relieved beyond words that Don is alive after the bust. A little exploration into that. Complete!
1. Calculating the Odds

Charlie Eppes sits at home, alone. Alan is out grocery shopping. And Don… Charlie closes his eyes for a moment, chasing away thoughts of temptation. He glances at the phone.

Would it ring today?

He takes a sip from his cup of milk, and exhales slowly. His mind itches for stimulation, for a challenge.

He knows what problem his mind of logic wishes to work. It involves probability, human nature, and his brother Don.

He catches himself looking at the phone once again, the damned embodiment of his dread. He finds himself almost daring it to ring.

_A highly irrational impulse_, Charlie thinks to himself. _Daring a inorganic object to ring sounds like something Don would do._

Don… I could find out so easily. I wouldn't even need paper. I have sufficient information. I know the number of gunmen, the number of agents involved, the weapons…

Charlie stops himself. He can't do it. He knows he won't be able to face the solution if it turns out to be negative. If the odds are against Don coming home today…

Don's handgun against an assault rifle. Oh, God… 

The phone rings, startling Charlie. He jumps, nearly knocking over his milk. His insides grow cold and his stomach begins to twist.

His mind begins to calculate possibilities as he tries to find the courage to pick up the phone. Is it an FBI agent, telling him that he needs to get to the hospital immediately?

A trained killer knows my brother's coming after him… he knows Don is in charge. He's going to go after him…

Suddenly, the numbers begin to flash through Charlie's head, unbidden. He has to know; he cannot wait for the phone call to tell him.

He recalls the last time he saw his brother's face, earlier that morning. Why hadn't he said goodbye to Don? Why didn't he tell him something meaningful instead of blurting out something that his brother wouldn't understand, a principle created by a scientist who knew nothing about assault rifles and bank robbers?

Why hadn't he told Don how much he loved him?

Damn the numbers.

"Hello?" He says into the receiver.

"Charlie? It's Dad." Charlie closes his eyes and begins to laugh.

"Well, that's a nice way to say hello. What's so funny?"

"I'm sorry, Dad. I was just working on a problem."

"What problem?"

"Emotion."

"When did that become a problem?" Alan asks, confused.

"I'll tell you later. What did you call for?"

"I just wanted to know if we needed milk."

"Yeah, we do. I just finished our last gallon."

"Okay. See you tonight. Don said he'd be home at ten, right?" The cold feeling begins to creep into Charlie's stomach again.

"Yeah. Bye, Dad."

"Goodbye, son."

He puts down the phone, and returns to his chair. One number is in his mind, echoing repeatedly.

"Please beat the odds, Donnie," he whispers.


	2. Dealing With the Odds

Author's Note- Sorry this took so long in coming out. Real life interfered. I hope this was worth the wait. If not, please tell me what changes I can make to make it worth while. Thanks to everyone for reviewing my first chapter.

Alan Eppes carefully examines a package of ground beef before placing it in his cart. He is nearly done his grocery shopping for the week.

He walks down the aisle, his mind caught up in thought. He recalls how strangely his youngest son, Charlie, had sounded over the phone only moments before.

"How are you today?" a young grocery cashier asks. He smiles.

"Just fine, thank you." She begins to scan the items.

"Did you see the shoot out on the news this week? It was incredible!"

"No, I didn't." Alan remembers the day he stopped watching the news. It had been about two years ago, when he had heard the news anchor say, "…Agent Don Eppes was injured, and was transported immediately to L.A. Medical." Alan can still remember the acidic taste in his throat, and the terrible cold feeling in his stomach that rose when he heard the phone ring, telling him that his son had been hospitalized for a concussion from being hit by the butt of a rifle. Alan had been alone at the house; his wife had been grocery shopping and Charlie had been at CalSci. Alan and Don had decided it was best not to let the rest of the family know about Don's injury, though his wife's suspicions had been raised when Don mysteriously passed out at the dinner table.

Alan knows his eldest son's job is dangerous. He worries for him constantly, unlike Charlie. Charlie has rarely ever been aware of his brother's daily risk. He lives in a world of equations and expressions, where death does not exist. Alan does not, however. Unfortunately, Charlie had been given a taste of fear this past week. Don had been shot, not badly, but enough to worry Charlie.

"Have a good day, sir," the cashier says as Alan departs the store, quite preoccupied. As much as he is worried about Don, Charlie's anxiety frightens him more. He can only imagine the turmoil his youngest son is putting himself through.

Don glances out of the van's window, swallowing hard. It has been a tough week, but he has faced far more difficult situations.

So why are his hands trembling?

He tries to rationalize his fear. Surely, he's just worried about Terry and David. They are risking a lot, being the true decoy.

But the truth is, his anxiety has nothing to do with Terry or David. Terry knows how to handle herself, and she will look out for David.

Don closes his eyes for a brief moment. He knows from where his anxiety stems.

He recalls words from only a few days before, filled with anger and fear. At the time, Don had not wished to understand exactly what the words meant.

_"Why, so you can get shot again?"_ A voice that Don loved to hear, filled with so much bitterness frightened him. That voice was not meant to sound so dark, so self-accusing. It was meant to sound bright, filled with happiness and intelligence. Don recalls the incredible look of guilt on his brother's face as he said those words. It was almost as if Charlie felt responsible for putting his brother in the situation.

"Statistically, you're dead now. You understand what the means? A man pointed a gun at your head, and fired. The fact that you survived is an anomaly, and is unlikely that it will be the outcome to a second such encounter."

_Damn it, Charlie, do you always have to be so damn frank?_ Don asks silently as he recalls the matter of fact tone in his brother's voice. It was unnerving at the time, and still is as Don hears over the radio that the suspects have taken the bait. He braces himself as the van makes a sharp turn onto an exit ramp. It's almost time.

Don takes a deep breath, trying to visualize a calming scene, as he always does before a situation of this intensity. He tries to imagine what tonight will be like. A not so quiet dinner with his father and brother, filled with laughter and happiness. Eating perfectly seasoned chili, while sipping on an ice-cold cherry cola while listening to his brother share his extremely nerdy math jokes. His father laughing and then coming up with his own quips, each funnier than the last. Don tries to focus on that calming scene, but it slips away.

Instead he sees in his mind's eye a young man, with dark curly hair, and eyes filled with fear and love. He sees dark brown eyes that desperately want reassurance that he will see his older brother alive again. He feels long, thin, trembling fingers tighten the strap on his vest, his only source of protection. He hears Charlie's voice, cracking slightly as he murmurs something about Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle, something that Don still struggles to comprehend. He knows exactly what his little brother was trying to say, however, and it has nothing to do with math or science.

"I love you, Don. Please, don't die today."

For the first time in his career at the FBI, Don Eppes feels that he has something to lose. He has never feared death for himself, not once. But now, he fears for his brother. Should he die, what would Charlie do?

The answer to that question is more than Don can handle. He cannot face the answer, no more than Charlie could face his death.

"Agent Eppes," the agent next to him whispers. It is time.

"Let's move out," Don says, and prays that he won't have to answer that question today.


	3. Beating the Odds

Alan walks into his home, burdened with two bags of groceries. It is uncharacteristically silent, especially since Charlie was home. The nonexistent squeak of chalk on a chalkboard comforts Alan, though; at least his son wasn't working on the unsolvable problem he had attempted to solve when he had first learned about the bank robbery and Don's injury.

"Charlie, you in here?" Alan calls, without hearing a single sound for several moments. His pace quickens as he makes his way to the kitchen.

He sees Charlie, hand clutching an empty cup, face pressed firmly against the table.

"Charlie!" Alan says, nearly dropping the grocery bags on the table. Charlie abruptly his head, clearly startled.

"D-dad," he stutters, rubbing his face with both hands. "I didn't know you were home."

"What's wrong, Charlie?" Alan asks, sitting down next to his son. Suddenly a horrible thought comes to his mind. His stomach twists with fear. "You didn't get a phone call, did you?"

Charlie shakes his head, and relief pours into Alan. He leans back, relieved that no one has called about Don.

"Thank God. But, honestly, Charlie, what's going on?"

"We're going to get that call," Charlie mutters, his words barely perceptible.

"Don't say that," Alan reprimands. "Don's perfectly fine. He's going to be home tonight. How could you say that?"

"The odds are against that possibility, Dad," Charlie says, his dark eyes filled with certainty.

"Oh, Charlie," Alan puts an arm around his youngest son. "Charlie, I want you to ignore the math for a second."

"How can I? I tried to all day. I tried so hard, but I couldn't help it. Do you really think I want to know the likelihood of my brother returning alive?"

"Charlie, stop thinking about the numbers and think about your brother. He's tough. He's been in the FBI more than half his life. And he's been in hundreds of situations far worse than this one. He can handle himself, Charlie."

"I factored in his experience, Dad, and the odds are still against him."

"Did you factor love in, Charlie?" Alan asks, catching Charlie off guard.

"Love?"

"Don loves you, Charlie! You think he would leave you? Don't you think that knowing you are waiting for him to come home makes him work a little harder? Don't you think that he's trying to stay alive so he can see you again?"

"I never thought about that," Charlie says, leaning back.

"Well, think about it, Charlie." Alan stands, his arm still around his son. "I'm going to put the groceries away, alright? Don't worry about him, Charlie. He's not going let anything stop him from coming home tonight."

Charlie nods, in deep thought. He has never used emotion in an equation before. How could he? There is no numerical value for emotion, or love. And even if he attempts to assign a value, who can say if he is correct?

There is no way he can put love into a mathematic equation. It is impossible.

"How are the odds now?" Alan asks, coming in with a few bags.

"I don't know," Charlie admits. Though he can say that even if the odds are not in Don's favor, they are much better than he had previously calculated.

"Well, why don't you help me put the groceries away so I can dinner started?" Alan watches as his son complies, his own anxiety rising. Charlie's words frightened him, forced him to consider possibilities he did not wish to.

He glances at the phone for a moment before heading back to his car. He realizes that he can only hope that his youngest son is wrong.

Charlie stares at the wall clock for a moment. It is nearly ten. And Don is still not home. He returns to his nervous pacing.

Alan watches his son pace back and forth while he unconsciously stirs his chili. Don always came home late. It is nothing unusual. Only Charlie is still afraid for his eldest brother.

"Maybe I should try his cell," Alan suggests. Charlie stops in his pacing.

"No, no," Charlie answers. "He's fine. Besides, I don't want him to know how much of an idiot I've been today."

"You haven't been an idiot, Charlie," Alan says gently.

"Nevertheless, I don't want to bother him," Charlie says, and begins to pace again.

The youngest Eppes closes his eyes for a moment, his anxiety eating away at him. He wants to call his brother so badly, to see if he's all right.

His anxiety is rising; he feels his chest begin to heave. He tries to regain control, but he cannot. He has to know if Don's alive, he has to!

Just as he approaches the phone, he hears the front door open. He freezes mid step, his heart pounding. Could it be?

Don shuts his car door, looking at the front of his father's house. He smiles, thinking of what lay in wait for him. As he hoped, that question did not have to be answered today.

"Hey, guys," he says as he walks into the house. Alan is sitting at the table. He smiles at his father, relieved to see he is calm as usual. Probably to him, this has just been another ordinary day for Don.

He then gazes at Charlie, whose entire body seems to sigh with relief at the sight of his big brother.

Charlie watches his brother enter the room, warmth rushing through his body. After a day of worrying, his big brother is fine.

The three sit down at the table, Alan watching his sons for a moment. Don smiles at Charlie, his question unanswered. Charlie stares at his brother, all numbers falling away against the sweet reality of Don's presence.

Whatever the odds are, Don has surely beaten them. And suddenly, Charlie realizes that Don has beaten them every day of his life, and will continue beating them due to that invaluable problem that Charlie will never solve: love.

FINIS

Author's Note: Thank you so much, everyone, for your wonderful reviews. You have all inspired me to continue writing for Numb3rs. Thank you again.


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